Tuesday 23 December 2014

Happy anniversary: Here’s to you, Mr Pobjoy!


Two years ago today it was ridiculously sweltering hot – a forecast top of 39 degrees celcius (thank goodness it only reached 38.9). It was the hottest day in December that year. My house was jam packed with family from afar, joking and teasing one another and doing whatever they could to be useful. (My brother proudly told me last month that he hasn’t ironed a shirt since my wedding.)

My three beautiful bridesmaids and I were primping and preening, aided by a lovely make up artist and hairdresser, and taking it in turns to stand in front of the fan and air conditioner. One of them, one of my closest friends, had brought over a posh bottle of champagne to share (and take the edge off any nerves). We snacked on cheese, pastries and fruit. I squeezed in a quick meditation while everyone seemed to be otherwise distracted. The photographers did their thing. The cats hid downstairs under the beds.

I sent my family ahead early to make sure the flowers and decorations were set up properly. I got dressed, made dad put on one of my boy’s nice ties (just for the ceremony and photos), and hopped into the car (sans air conditioning – whose idea was that?).

We were late (I’m always late). And later still, as the girls and I dried off in the toilets before hitting the aisle (there's nothing worse than a bride or bridesmaid dripping in sweat). Thankfully my boy was there, still waiting for me at the end of the path, under the arch in the peaceful cottage garden, smiling broadly (in relief that he could soon take off his coat and vest, and get out of the sun, I imagine).

He said I do. I said I do. We signed some papers, as you do. Our sisters read some poems. The bees swarmed around the flowers in my bouquet (I’m told this is good luck). Our friends sang a couple of our favourite songs. Then we walked back up the aisle together, holding hands as we stepped over the broomstick, and headed straight for the Pimms and lemonade. There were speeches and cocktail drinks and food. There were some gallant attempts at dancing, but it was really too hot, so most people chatted in the garden.

There were also a myriad imperfections: a waiter lost his tray of drinks rather spectacularly (poor guy); the venue ran out of toilet paper(!); the DJ refused to play some of the songs we specifically requested when we hired him; the taxis took hours to show; specially ordered meals weren't prepared, and more. But despite this, people seemed to have a good time. As we left, our friends and family stood together to form a long arch, cheering us as we ran under their arms and out the door.

My favourite part of the day? The last song. Just before we went back to the hotel in our old neighbourhood, the DJ played our informal farewell song. My boy and I let loose, dancing to Belinda Carlisle’s Leave a light on – a joke song for us. During the four or so minutes this song played, I was the most relaxed I’d felt all day and night, singing off key (well, I never sing in key) as we swung each other around. 

We are lucky that the first two years have been quite easy on us. They have flown by with renovations, holidays, study, work, a pregnancy and a baby. I don’t think that marriage has changed our relationship, although I secretly quite like saying ‘my husband’ now when I talk to strangers. It rolls off my tongue much more easily than I thought it would. And I think it’s a nice salute to the man who loved me enough to ask me to spend the rest of our lives together, despite knowing I wasn’t that into the whole commitment thing.

I’m lucky that I’ve found someone who accepts and loves me for me. Someone who compliments me often, even when I’ve had three hours sleep, am wearing my daggiest, food-stained clothes and no makeup, haven’t brushed my hair, and am cranky, feeling unfit and in tears.

I love that my boy cares so deeply and feels so responsible for his family, friends and pets, and complete strangers. Even though his protectiveness drives me crazy sometimes (and will be sure to do the same to Little Red when she’s older).

I especially love how much he adores Little Red. That for the first two weeks after Little Red was born and he was home, he changed almost all of her nappies, no matter what time of the day or night it was. When he’s home, he still changes her, and baths her, dresses her, feeds her, plays, dances and sings with her, and takes her to visit his parents so I can have some me time.

I love his gentleness. That he catches spiders and insects (and lizards that the cats bring in) and releases them safely outside instead of reaching for the Mortein. (Even if he does squeal like a girl when I sneak up behind him and poke him when he’s catching spiders.) When we go walking, he picks snails up off the path and moves them to the grass, so they don’t get stepped on. He finds the owners of stray dogs. He buys food to feed stray cats when we’re on holiday.

I love how thoughtful he is. That I can mention a book or CD or movie in passing, and he’ll get it for me as a birthday, Christmas or ‘just because’ present.

I love how unconditionally supportive he is. That although he doesn’t believe in most of the ‘hippy’ medicine I study and use, or many of my alternative ideas, he still brings me cups of tea and treats late in the night and early in the morning when I’ve got assignments due, and encourages me to follow my passions. (I’m yet to convert him to green smoothies though.)

I love his kindness. That when I’ve had a bad day and run out of my high-maintenance chocolate, he’s come home from his own bad day at work bearing three different blocks of my chocolate. All for me. And he doesn’t even complain that much when I’ve eaten his chocolate when I’ve been desperate. Around 99% of the time, he’s the first to apologise after we argue. Even on the very, very rare occasion when I’ve been at fault.

I love how considerate he is. That he puts the toilet seat down. I can probably count the number of times he hasn’t on one hand. And while I agree it’s no big deal if he doesn’t, I think it’s lovely that he does. At night, he’ll go outside to water the garden for me, so I don’t get eaten by mosquitos. When we’re out and I think he’s perving on girls in skimpy clothes, he tells me that he’s actually questioning how sensible their outfits are in the winter weather and wondering if they are too cold. (Or so he says…)

I love his respect. He knows who I am and doesn't try to change me (although I sometimes think he would like me to be just a little more wifey, motherly and settled). He knows I need my freedom and independence, like being able to travel at will, have alone time, and keep my name even though we're married. He doesn't even seem to mind all that much when he's called Mr Pobjoy at hotels I've booked for our holidays. 

Here’s to at least another two years, my boy. I hope I can at least equal, if not exceed, the love that you show and give me every day.


Friday 19 December 2014

Taking stock: December 2014.

I know. I know. It’s been a while since I checked in. My best intentions of fortnightly posts were way laid by lovely family visitors from overseas, catching up with things around the garden and house, and sleep deprivation. So, so, so much sleep deprivation. As a result, all of my inspiration has gone MIA, along with my ability to string together a sentence that remotely makes sense. You know, ones with words in the right order and ideas that link together and aren’t too abstract or random. It’s been so bad that my boy keeps accusing me of smoking pot.

So, to ease back into it, I’m borrowing this idea from Katie180 and Vegie Mama, who borrowed it from Meet Me at Mike’s. Feel free to borrow it too. I don’t think they’d mind.

It’s called ‘taking stock’ and it might make a regular appearance here. It involves thinking about things like where you are, what you’re feeling and thinking, and what you’ve been doing. It’s nice to do from time to time, and especially nice to do at the end of a year. Here’s mine. 
  • Making: Green smoothies again. Actually, my smoothies are more brown than green, because of all of the cacao I add to them, but there’s plenty of greens in there.
  • Cooking: Lots of veggies and fruit to freeze for Little Red’s meals. Not much else because it’s getting too hot to cook.
  • Drinking: Fizzy water. Herbal tea. Irish whiskey. Hot chocolate. Sometimes in that order. Sometimes I mix it up a little.
  • Reading: My reading pile is so high and ever increasing. It taunts me every day. I thought that my maternity leave would be spent gardening, reading, writing, studying and drinking lots of tea. Ah, no. Surprisingly, babies take up A LOT of time. When I get a chance to read, I’m usually reading baby books. At the moment, Buddhism for mothers.
  • Wanting: Sleep first. Tea second. Please and thank you.
  • Looking: For a recipe for a nice Christmas cake to make for my vegan neighbours. That or I’ll just buy them wine.
  • Playing: Peek-a-boo and the ‘rah’ game, which are essentially the same thing. I used to play them with the cats. Now I play them with Little Red.
  • Deciding: Whether to have a nap in the few minutes more that Little Red will be asleep or finish this blog.
  • Wishing: People could just be nice to each other, regardless of religion or race or nationality or skin tone or shape or size. I’m really feeling for Sydney siders and the hostages’ families. Why do some people feel the need to hurt others? It makes no sense to me. I really want to slap some sense into them. I mean, sit down sensibly and quietly discuss it with them over a nice pot of chamomile tea.
  • Enjoying: The cool breeze on my skin. The sound of the wind in the trees. Blue skies with white clouds. A bliss ball and green(y brown) smoothie.
  • Waiting: For Christmas, so Little Red and my boy can open the pressies I got them, which are pretty cool, even if I say so myself.
  • Liking: Paleo bars. My new addiction. I heart the Brazillian and Ginger ones. I just wish they weren’t so crumbly (or expensive). 
  • Wondering: How I can convince my boy to come on holiday with me in June next year to celebrate me finishing uni. He wants to go away in February to chill in Byron Bay, and we’re going to Europe in December for Christmas with my brother and his family. Is three holidays a year too much? I say no. Our bank account and his boss might argue otherwise. But where there’s a will, there’s a way… Right?
  • Loving: The sleep guru who has been helping us with Little Red – Anita from Sleep Gems. I highly recommend her. Anita’s tips and training are helping Little Red to sleep better at night and during the day. Which means I’ve started to get more time out and rest in the past few days. Last night was the closest thing we’ve come to her sleeping through the night in almost five months. I’m still exhausted, mind you, but I’ll catch up on sleep soon enough if this continues.
  • Pondering: Whether or not to put up our Christmas decorations.
  • Considering: Making myself a cup of tea. But to do that, I need to go into the kitchen. Little Red’s bedroom is right off the kitchen. Making tea will make noise. You see where I’m going with this.
  • Watching: So exciting – Downton Abbey season 5. Hot off the UK presses and delivered to my door. Death comes to Pemberly is also getting screen time.
  • Hoping: The Feliway diffuser arrives soon and helps to chill out the cats a bit. I dislike cleaning up cat wee and having foil on the couch to stop them scratching it.
  • Marvelling: At how Little Red holds my hand. Her little, pudgy, soft, warm fingers wrap around mine and her thumb strokes them. I can feel the tiny lines and wrinkles in the palm of her hand and on the joints of her fingers. She holds my hand so tight and trustingly. It melts my heart. Every. Single. Time. I still can’t believe we made her. And she’s growing up SO FAST.
  • Needing: See ‘Wanting’ above. Sleep. Tea. Oh, and more time.
  • Smelling: Summer – warmth and grass and trees and flowers.
  • Wearing: What I call my happy pants. You know, big, baggy bohemian pants with elastic at the waist and ankles. Not too dissimilar to MC Hammer pants but in better colours and with hippy patterns. Them and a singlet top are pretty much my summer maternity leave uniform. (Add a hoodie and slippers and you have my winter maternity leave uniform too.) I’m super stylish.
  • Following: The lives and loves of the people of Downton Abbey. Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era and should be living in a castle, with dashing, wealthy, well-suited men courting me over luncheon, despite me being married to my boy (who would be an Earl or something similar, of course). I’d have plenty of time to prune my roses while wearing a long flouncy dress and jewels that my maid helped me put on, sipping brandy-spiked tea. Then I realize I would have probably been married off at 18 and had multiple children in quick succession (goodbye pelvic floor), and quite possibly be dead at my age. So it’s not all bad in the here and now really.
  • Noticing: The little things. Like how soft Little Red’s skin and hair are, the colour and shape of her eyes, the patterns in the clouds, the colour of the sky, new flowers in the garden, the scent of roses, how good herby tea tastes.   
  • Knowing: How blessed I am, with my friends and family, home, community, lifestyle, education, employment and freely available chocolate and tea.
  • Thinking: Of visiting my colleagues and taking them some festive cheer in the form of a box of chocolates or cookies. Or both.
  • Admiring: My garden. It’s flourishing at the moment – full of green leaves and flowers, birds, bees, fruits and vegetables. I can’t keep up with it. I just hope I didn’t plant my summer veggies too late and still get some produce.
  • Sorting: Resources and reference material for my return to uni in two months. I have a lot to prepare, it’s a little scary. (Actually, I haven’t really started – but I will start sorting them out soon…)
  • Buying: Nada. I’ve spent up big the past few weeks on Christmas presents and bits and pieces. Now I’m taking a break.
  • Getting: Excited about going back to uni to complete the final subject in my course. It’s been six years in the making and I love learning stuff. I’m such a nerd. Also a little scared about what I’ll do once I’m finished it...
  • Bookmarking: Healthy chocolate brownie recipes. Sleep tips for babies.
  • Disliking: Violence and anger and negativity. It’s not nice.
  • Opening: A letter from Laxmi that arrived. She wrote it in pink and drew a picture of a house and water pump. It’s so sweet.
  • Giggling: At Little Red’s dance moves. She bops away to anything and nothing, her entire body bouncing up and down while seated, breastfeeding, eating, lying down... Then she claps and shakes her head manically. Sometimes we think she’s possessed.
  • Feeling: Tired, kinda hungry and in need of tea.
  • Snacking: On nuts and dark chocolate, and hundreds of beautiful raspberries that are falling off the bushes in my garden. Home-grown berries taste COMPLETELY different to shop-bought ones. In the time I’ve been writing this, I’ve eaten about two punnets of berries. (Definitely not snacking on spoons of the organic unsalted peanut butter I bought from the farmers’ market with honey on top. That would be uncouth.)
  • Coveting: The idea of sleep and having time to do me things (or just things).
  • Wishing: For sleep. And more peace and love and understanding in the world. Actually, maybe love isn't all you need. Maybe sleep is all you need. I know how cranky I am when I don't get enough of it. Maybe if world leaders and war mongers got more shut eye, they'd be a bit more tolerant and the world would be a better place.
  • Helping: A friend in need. I gave her a box of goodies including wine, chocolate, tea and rescue remedy. Do you actually need anything else in life?
  • Hearing: The wind in the trees. Birds chirping. Cars driving in the distance. My neighbour’s door slamming. Someone doing renovations. Dogs barking. It’s so peaceful in the ‘burbs.